


In Dreams

by Vevici



Series: DA prompt fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Light Angst, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vevici/pseuds/Vevici
Summary: With each passing night that Hawke is away at Skyhold, Anders dreams of his love. But sometimes, dreams are not just dreams.





	In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> originally for a micro fic prompt: in dreams

In dreams she was with him. Or he with her. It really didn’t matter; so long as Anders could see those crystal blue eyes, the red streak of paint across upturned nose, the wide smile roaring with lewd jokes. Some nights they were in the middle of an unlikely group—a famous author, a pirate, an escaped slave, a Dalish living in a human city, a prince, the Guard Captain, a Grey Warden. All of them equally alone, equally among friends; and then Hawke would look at him, and the grimy walls and grimier clients of the Hanged Man would feel less temporary. Other nights it was just the two of them, trying to warm the silent mansion. Somehow even in Anders’ sleep, the rooms were too big, as if waiting for them for fill it. With what? Anders doesn’t—couldn’t think of it yet: there was much to do. Besides, this night, sleep took Anders into the raw convoluted world of the Fade.

              Despite all the research, the studies both within and outside the Circle, Anders still haven’t found the reason why the Fade was just so green. Green and noiseless and senseless. Rather, it didn’t make sense to humans. But there he was, then there she was. Hawke stood atop a twist of rock wrapped in a filmy shine. Her staff, with its glowing jewel between the opened mouths of twisting snakes, was raised and pointed right at him.

              “It’s just me, love,” Anders said, voice rippling in the otherwise barren land.

              Even from a distance, Anders saw her flinch and stiffen. It was odd, but other odder things have happened in the Fade. Before he could think on it further, Hawke jumped from her perch and broke into a run. Those crystal blue eyes were wide with urgency, the red streak smeared down her cheek, chapped lips stretched over gritted teeth. Anders sighed: it was one of the less pleasant dreams. The ones that came more often during the first few nights after fleeing Kirkwall on a commandeered ship.

              “Anders?” Her voice rang, clear and loud and unmistakable. “Is that you?”

              “It’s dream me,” he would have said jokingly. But Hawke was on him, the spikes on her gauntlet dug around his wrist, the tang of blood sharp in his nose. Only then did Anders notice the stained strips of cloth around her arms and thighs, the utter warmth of the hand on his. Cold washed across his back and the pressure that made home in his chest burst forth.

              Songs from the blue crystals that sprouted from the ground filled his ears until they drowned his name from her lips. The Fade snapped, soundless but absolute, and the green haze dissipated to reveal sharp edges and solid forms. The grip on his wrist tightened, a fist grabbed him by the collar and shook twice.

              “Tell me it’s really you!” Tears glistened in Hawke’s eyes, making them even more like precious gems.

              Anders covered the hand around his shirt with his own. His fingers were trembling, cold. This couldn’t be, his mind said. But Justice was certain.  “Why are you here?”

              Hawke’s arms snapped around his neck, crushing him against her; her hands on his hair, his back, were frantic as her whispered words. “I’m sorry. I love you, Anders. I’m sorry.”

              In dreams, pain was a blunt weapon; heavy and slow, and it took a while to realize that a blow was struck. What Anders felt was the swift cut of sharp blades, one that shocked every nerve in his body into fleeing or fighting. This was the kind of pain that happened in the waking world.

              “How—This shouldn’t be possible.” Yet when he pressed his nose against her matted dark hair and sweet lavenders mixed with sour sweat and salty blood, the denial shriveled in Anders’ belly. “You should be with Varric!”

              Hawke’s embrace wound tighter. “Tell him—”

              “No.” Anders pulled back, lifted Hawke’s face to meet his eyes. He ran a thumb over the dark bruises under her bloodshot eyes. “Whatever you want to say, you’ll tell him yourself when we get out.”

              Her eyes, if possible, even grew wider. Her mouth opened, jaw working for an argument or a word of thanks, but Anders didn’t give her the chance. Head bowed, he pressed his lips on hers, firm and sure and focused.

              “I will bring you back.”

              A sob broke between them. His or hers, he didn’t know. With another promise of hope and devotion, sealed with their lips, Anders shook the dream from himself. Or himself from the dream. It didn’t matter; Hawke needed him and there was much to do.


End file.
